Not One of Us
by LuneSyndrome
Summary: How could the Clan of Noah turn it’s back on humans? Simple, mankind had turned it’s back, for they were not one of their own. :Song Fiction:


**Title: **Not One of Us

**Rating: **T – For the abuse to the Noahs before transformation

**Summery: **How could the Clan of Noah turn it's back onto humans? Simple, the whole world had turned it's back, for they were not one of their own. :Song Fiction:

**Notes: **Another one-shot for the readers who had reviewed on my other story. This one is more or less a thank you gift for them!

Un-Betaed, since I don't have one!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters from D. Gray-man, or the main storyline itself. And I also do not own the song, nor Lion King.

--

Noah. The one who built the Ark to save his family and two of every animal on the face of the earth. The one who listened to God, listened when everyone else scorned and laughed when he toiled for days, building the ship. The savior of the human race… And the executioner. He saved his family, at the cost of millions of other lives, listening to their cries as they drowned in the unforgiving waves of God's rage.

_Deception  
Disgrace  
Evil as plain as the scar on his face_

His descendants, the ones who inherited his memories, take over his duty, saving the human race by condemning them, outcasts from the human society, scorned and feared, because of the row of scars that dotted their brow, black scars in the shape of crosses.

_Deception - An outrage!  
Disgrace - For shame!  
He asked for trouble the moment he came_

Run, run, run, run. He couldn't see through the blood that dripped from his forehead, feeling like a crown of thorns were being pushed into his brow. His ears drummed, just like his heart, filled with fear of death, as a mob ran behind him, screaming curses in his mother tongue. He could feel his brother next to him, his older sibling. It wasn't his brother, no, it wasn't his older brother that had been branded a monster.

His fine clothing dirtied, pants torn from the countless of times that he had tripped, fallen into the harsh pavements. Luck was not on their side, as it never was, the maze of stone buildings just lead them into a dead end. The towering stone wall seemed to mock them. Game over. The mob descended quickly, screaming about gray skinned demons, and freaky powers. His brother was ripped away, the crowd more gentle with him, _he_ was human. But the late teen didn't care much of the treatment, kicking, punching, trying to reach his brother.

"Poor thing," One of the people murmured, "The monster's got him in his spell."

No, he was his brother, he wasn't a monster! He hadn't meant to kill the cat, the thing was yowling so much, frightened about something. Next thing he knew, a heart lay in his little brother's hand, warm and beating still, with the cat tossed away, a broken doll. He had managed to remove it without a single indent to the skin. Witchcraft, they called it, called his little brother a monster.

They were dragging him away, the limp figure of his brother in the corner of the alley, golden eyes wide with fear, blood crusted on his face, some still trailing down over his eyes, rendering them nearly blind. The group closed over him, as he fought harder, knowing the beating that surely would come. "Tyki…TYKI!"

The face turned towards him, and a soft breath escaped his mouth, "Big brother…Sheryl." The mob descended on him, blunt wooden items waving, torches burning bright… As crimson shattered the night, painting the walls of buildings as a morbid paint.

_See you later, agitator!  
Deception - An outrage!  
Just leave us alone!_

_Disgrace - For shame!_

Screaming. Her ears rang with the sound, it hurt! Screaming, angry shouts, she just wanted it all to go away. Stop it, stop it! The words pierced her like a blade of a knife, jeers of angry words, she could almost feel them over the physical pain of the thorns.

"Monster! You killed your own mother!" No, she didn't! She didn't do anything, she loved her family! She had nothing to do with her mother's death, having woken up from her aghast filled slumber to find the lady limp on the ground, having a simple kitchen knife protruding from her chest. That was when she learned humans were fragile. They said she had died due to the stress with having a monster, an abomination, for a daughter. That couldn't be true; her mother loved her!

"Daddy!" Where was her father? Her father would make things right!

"Listen to the little monster cry for it's makers." A man in the crowd sneered, "Listen to the spawn cry for it's creators!" An angry chant started up, as the girl cowered, golden eyes wide. "Leave us you monster!" "All we wanted was peace!" "A wolf in sheep's clothing!"

"Daddy!" She screamed again, but her voice caught in her throat, as a flicker of flames illuminated a gold object in the accuser's hands. It was her father's cross pendent, one he would never take off; being such a firm believer in God that he was. However, here were spots that didn't reflect the light, instead, revealed spots of ruby on the metal. No. No. Nononononono.

She did was she could; closed her eyes and screamed. However, it wasn't fear in her voice, but anger, malice, and hate. She could hear tearing sounds, screams of agony, and she relished it. Something wet hit her face, but she didn't look up. Not until the groans of the dying faded away. Getting up on shaking legs, she barely flickered an eyelash at the seen of gore and mutilation that she had created. Picking up the golden chain from the ground, plucking it from a dead man's severed hand, she glanced at the metal, before tossing it over her shoulder. "God doesn't help anyone, he lets those who believe in him the most die." She spoke to the ringing silence, broken only by the dripping blood from the bodies. "I can't agree better, Rhode-chan! " Turning around, Rhode smiled at the man at the doorway, the teeth of his grin bright against the flickering candles, top hat perched on his head.

_Traitor, go back with your own!  
He asked for trouble the moment he came  
See you later, agitator!_

Running alone on the alleyways, it was not the first time she wished she was a cat. She could scale the alleyways, walk on catwalks without worrying about falling. And no one would bother a street cat if they could help it. Or she'd love to be a pet, curled up warm by a fire, content with someone stroking her ears. Being an animal would have been a better life than this. But her senses had sharpened up, even if her head was throbbing and the bandages were wet where she hadn't changed them in a while. Crosses that bleed from her forehead, and a sudden increase in body flexibility, what had happened to her? The whispers had grown louder now, as if she wasn't there. She had been an outsider always, a drifter in their quant little town…

Clenching her fists, she envisioned her lashing out at a wall with a whip. Eyes narrowing, she raised her left arm…And the bricks came crashing down. Eyes wide, she looked down at her left arm…Or what used to be a left arm. In place, was a silvery sort of…narrow material, flexible and all the qualities of a whip. But it was her **arm**. That thing was her arm! Raising it up, shock written on her face.

Then, a scream erupted front where the wall had clasped. Dashing towards the source of the noise, she had forgotten that her arm was still in it's whip-like state. A boy was laying under a pile of fallen pieces, blood seeping where something had conked him over the head.

"Hey…" Her voice seemed so…cracked, as he went over to him, shaking his body, but he didn't move, just lolled slightly to the side. Heart pounding, she wrapped her 'arms' around his shoulders and pulled him out of the wreak. He must have been hurt pretty bad, as wherever she touched him, blood seeped into that area.

He looked to be only a six year old, a soft touch to his face due to the baby fat. "Wake up." She pleaded, shaking him slightly, "Wake up." But the limp body didn't wake, but upon closer examination, she realized why. There was a slash on his neck; it hadn't been her that killed him… He had been dead, but recently, as the blood still flowed from his body.

Apparently someone had heard the explosion, and the scream. The door burst open, as people filed in. Someone gasped, before the accessions started to fill the room with their pointed ends.

"Murderer!" "What's with her arm?!" "She killed that young boy!" She should have protested, said she was innocent, but the mob had no time for excuses. What could they expect? She was the one covered in blood, with the boy dead at her knees. "Kill the monster! Kill the murderer!" And what else could she do, except flee?  
Her heart pounding in her chest, she ran, fear coursing through her veins, with a mad town behind her. The voices grew, the insults growing worse and painful. Turning a corner, she skidden to a halt, a dead end. Leaping behind a garbage heap, she crouched into a ball, worried and shaking. She was going to die, die. A soft mewl at her feet, she opened her golden eyes. Identical pupils stared back, as the cat mewled again. Reaching out with blooded fingers, she touched the cat's head, said animal purring softly. "I wish…" Her voice was horse, cracked from disuse, as golden eyes flickered shut. "I wish I was like you."

The sound of the angry calls came closer and closer; this was the end. She didn't open up her eyes, not even when they torn open the garbage pile. She was ready for the kill, ready for the sweet embrace of death… "Tch, nothing here but a pair of cats. Let's go. She must have escaped!" A pair…of cats? Opening her eyes, she looked up, the retreating back of the town…So big.

Pulling herself up, she crawled towards a puddle. A black cat, shaggy with a white cross on it's forehead looked back at her. Impossible…But…Here she was. A mewl came from behind her, as the ginger cat emerged, chasing the crowd. One of them turned around, "Ginger! I know it, when he said a pair of cats, I should have known one of them was you!" The cat purred, content, as the man excused himself, before dashing away, beloved cat in his hands. It wasn't the first time she felt jealous, maybe a cat's life would be better than what she had. After all, the only thing you can do when you hit bottom was go up.

It was hard, but it wasn't as difficult as living as a human; as days passed into weeks, and weeks bleed into a month, she had to constantly reminder herself that she was a human, not a cat, but the occasional scraps of food humans put out were helpful. Huh, human. She wasn't like them anymore. Not anymore.

A jingling sound one day woke her up from the ally she was sleeping, and instinct called, as she slipped down from the high spot she had been curled up to hide from the elements and annoying kids, towards the sound. A bell had been dangling from someone's hand, as she jumped towards it. However, she had been scooped up, and cradled. She should have bit back, or did something to escape the surprising grasp, it the body heat was so comfortable… No one had held her for such a long time… "Ooho. What a nice cat. Do you want to join our family? "

Lulubell looked up, meeting a cheerful grin on the 'person' that held her, her maw twitching into something that somewhat resembled a smile.

_Born in grief  
Raised in hate  
Helpless to defy his fate  
Let him run  
Let him live  
But do not forget  
What we cannot forgive_

He felt so tired…So very tired. He had been running, running, running for a very, very long time. In his mind, two different voices sounded, one angry, the other one agreeing with the first, but slightly fearful. Of course, there were things to fear, the kids were behind him, wielding sticks and stones. No doubt their parents encouraged them to do it, but unfortunately, he didn't have ones that would stand up for them, him. He corrected. Them…Why was he suddenly referring to himself as a split entity? Sure, the different voices in his head surely were the fact…But… Gah! Now he was conversation with himself. Anyways, if his parents could stand up, that be a miracle, who ever heard of dead people standing back up? 'Frankenstein.' A voice laughed in his mind, the other one giggling, but a slightly more wary. Shaking his head, he cleared the thoughts, pushing those voices aside, to the many complaints of the 'louder' one.

Slowing down to a brisk trot, he kicked a stone, trying to elevate his anger and helplessness in the situation. He was an orphan, someone to be pitied…Now he was a monster. It started on the day when he woke the whole town with his cries of agony, trashing around in an alleyway, blood streaming from his forehead… With a burnt corpse next to him. He didn't know why, through the pain, he could remember someone grabbing him, shaking him. And all he wanted that person to do was _get off_. Fire. Fire. He had imagined, for the briefest moments, a sparkle of flame, the fire dancing it it's red light. And he could hear another scream, that wasn't his own…

He was called a monster, an omen of bad luck. They wanted to kill him, get rid of the curse, but they were frightened, frightened of him… Frightened of what he might do to them if they tried. So the kids just stuck with trying to beat him into a pulp, but wary what they might do to them. The louder one, the one he always pictured with short black hair, would always sneer, and say that they should be grovelling at their feet, they were, of course, better then them.  
A scream of triumph, as he hit the dirt, stars winking in front of his eyes. They had caught up to him, beating him with sticks, as he curled up, trying to ignore the pain. If he retaliated, the parents would have something to hurt him with, and teen beatings were better then adults… "Monster!" "What's the matter, can't get your spark?" "You're always alone, everyone hates you!" "What a stupid person, he doesn't even know when to leave!"

What struck him the most, was the fact that he was _alone_. He would always be alone…Alone…Alone… An animalistic shriek erupted from his mouth, as long blonde hair (His hair had started to change colour for some reason, blond with black at the top…Another reason they called it witchcraft.) curled and pierced through the nearest of his tormentors. Monster. Alone. Monster. Alone. Those words chanted in his head, making his blind with anger and self loathing. Something splattered across his face, as a cruel smile crept across his lips. Screams of terror, as they tried to flee, only to be met with a lock of hair, lashing out, binding them, curling around their neck in an almost gentle manner, before tightening, hosting them up off their feet. "Why don't we show you how monstrous we can be?"

Cracks of bone, the squelch of blood that came from being impaled on something sharp, he could recall only sounds, not details of what had happened. By the time he had come to his senses, the area by the river side was red, like someone had taken bright crimson paint, and smeared it onto picture. Broken bodies lay, twisted with a look of their last horror on their blank faces. Two were floating in the river, blood seeping into the crystal clean water.

A soft thump of footsteps, as he turned his head towards the sound, eyes glowing gold. "Now, now. It's perfectly aright to play rough with those who are rough to you. " A fat man, for there was no other way to describe him, looked upon him, a permanent grin stretched across his features. Another man, a tall gentleman, with the _same_ crosses that etched into his head, and the _same_ gold eyes… He sighed, looking around the scene. "He did go a bit overboard, didn't he, Earl?" "Now, Tyki-pon, we must not deny the boys of their fun! " "I told you Earl, my name is just Tyki." Boys…? How did he know that there were two? Eyes narrowing, he opened up his mouth, "Relax, we are your kind." The gentleman, Tyki apparently was his name…They decided that he would be someone fun to torment, and the person with a fat smile on his face…It was somewhat creeping, if they could say so. Opening a gloved hand, "Come join our family! " "Wait a moment, though, what's his name?" Name…? He never needed one before, but… A sudden wave a nausea overcame him, as he slip slightly, kneeling on the floor, gasping of breath. What's going on…? Eyes closed, he could barely make out a voice, heightened in slight panic, and a voice full of confidence, "This is normal of the Noah of Bonds! Relax, Tyki-pon! " Noah? Bonds? What was he talking about? Closing his eyes he could feel a slight sensation, like someone tearing him apart, though not painful. Darkness…

"Why are there two?" It was that man's voice…Tyki? Ya, that was his name. Sitting up, he turned his vision to the side, another male of his age sitting on the ground in ragged clothing. The blond blinked at him, and he swore, he could see his reflection, a black haired mirrored in those golden eyes. Their attention with directed towards Tyki, who had lit a cigarette. Both their noses wrinkled at that smell; it reminded them of the rich people who scorned at their poverty. "So what is your name…s?" "I'm…Devit." "And I'm…Jasdero." "Together, we're Jasdebi."

_And he is not one of us  
He has never been one of us  
He is not part of us  
Not our kind_

_Someone once lied to us  
Now we're not so blind  
For we knew he would do what he's done  
And we know that he'll never be one of us_

_He is not one of us_

It hurt so badly; those dreams, those dreams. Though not physical manifestations, they haunted every corner of his mind, those screams of the damned, and the laughter of those who condemned them. Those nightmares that made him see everything, yet remember none, just leaving that fear in his mind, fear and anger. Though the latter emotion had been coming, crowing to quench the fear, not to forgive. Forgive what? He didn't know, be he knew he couldn't forgive… Couldn't forget and forgive. But what? He wanted to know what, but it hurt to badly. His fingers left bloody trails on the white sheets, stained with his sweat, as he gnawed through his fingernails and into his flesh to elevate the pain. His throat was hoarse, screaming thought the night...Thank god the priest was there to help him, with his nuns…

They stopped visiting him soon, the dockhands that he worked along side in the harbour. First, he didn't pay much mind to it, but then, in through the sleep, he could hear the nuns whispering to each other. "Poor man…They say the devil has possessed him." "I know, but I pray that God with soon cure him; we are doing the best he can." "His friends stopped visiting a while ago, didn't they?" "Yes…They say that he had been possessed by a demon, and they do not wish to get their souls tainted from being to close…" "But, by word, you would think he has gone mad, with those sounds he makes…And his skin…It's turned grey, the colour of death…And the holy marks on his skin. Truly, something holy wouldn't do something like this to him…? Poor man." He didn't understand…Didn't understand… But he could feel anger bubbling beneath his skin, anger towards his co-workers… "Do not forgive…" He knew that there was something in his body, something had would declare it's hate of the 'Innocence' and human race every so often. The nightmares…The nightmares… So cold…So dark… He was loosing his mind.

It had been the worst nightmare up to night; he could remember what he dreamed, and it made him sick to the pits of his stomach…But some reprieve was gotten out of it. He had woken to a face, teeth smiling in the darkness, and a young girl. One thing he had noticed, was that he was gnawing on his fingers still, teeth ripping away skin, blood dripping down his mouth. "Don't forgive him. Don't forgive him. Don't forgive him. Don't forgive him. Don't forgive him." Over and over again, like a twisted chant, a morbid prayer to God. First, he had thought it was hallucinations…But when tears hit his face, he knew it was not a dream anymore. The girl said something, but he couldn't hear it, couldn't tell through the screaming that still rang through his ears. But when the man, a fat jolly one, a bit like Santa Claus that the parents would tell there children, looked at him, he could hear every single word he said clearly. "Skin Boric…" His…name. "You're one of the 13 children God created. You're an Apostle carrying the genes of Noah." Was he? His teeth wouldn't stop chattering, biting on the nails, ruined and scared. It hurt so much…So much… "All the hate, sadness, and suffering inside you right now is the truth of the past, seven thousand years gone. Is the memory engraved into your genes?" He couldn't forget it, wouldn't forget it… Too terrible… The… "True form of this world." Tears crept up in his eyes, and through the immense sorrow, he could see the man was also crying, behind spectacles. "Uuuuaa…" And they comforted him through the night…

The priest had come in, surprised…or not that he could move around today. Washing his face, he pulled up his bangs, angry eyes glaring back at him through the mirror. "Hey." What the hell did he say? Oh well, he was just an Akuma. "I'll be going home today. Get rid of all those in the dockyards that know me." He didn't need them anymore, just a pitiful reminder, a stain. Those who wouldn't even visit them when he was ill, sick, and suffering through the memories of the Noah of Wrath. "Don't forgive him… Don't forgive him. Don't forgive him. Never." A white figure, in the mirror, no features except the mouth… "Don't ever forgive him."

_Deception_

_Disgrace_

_Deception_

_Disgrace_

_Deception_

_--_

**A/N: **Longer then my last one, this time, from the views of the Noahs. The Clan of Noah has a few of my favorite characters of all time, so I had to do something about them… And ta dah! This is for those who were kind enough to leave me a review before, on my first fanfiction. First, this was going to be on Allen's point of view, with his scar and such…Though, I don't think I had enough of a heart to do that to him. So, this is for the Noahs.

Please leave a review, thank you!


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